No, to tell you the truth," here Paula's voice took
a deeper note, "every last American of us here in France is hot with
humiliation and rage at his country's attitude,--monkeying with those
baby-killing, woman-raping devils."
As she ended, her voice shook with passion, her cheeks were pale, and in
her eyes shone two bright tears. Impulsively the V. A. D. rose from her
place, ran around to Paula, and putting her arm around her neck, said:
"Oh, I do thank you, and I love you for your words," while Barry stood
at attention, as if in the presence of his superior officer. "I salute
you," he said with grave earnestness. "You worthily represent your brave
and generous people."
"Oh, darn it all!" cried Paula, brushing away her tears. "I'm a fool,
but you don't know how we Americans feel--real Americans, I mean, not
the yellow hyphenated breed."
After lunch, Barry went to look up his chief, the assistant director of
chaplain service, while Paula took charge of the V. A. D., saying:
"Run away, Barry, and see your Brass Hat.
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